


Breath Between

by dragonimp



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Clubbing, Gay Bar, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 17:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20246656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonimp/pseuds/dragonimp
Summary: One of these days he was going to have to ask her how she knew about this place.  Maybe once he got over the mortification that his best friend and his brother had told him about a gay dance club.





	Breath Between

**Author's Note:**

> Written for RoyEd Week 2019, Day 3

This guy had been trying to catch his eye for at least five minutes.Ed finally acknowledged him with a smile and a slight shake of his head, gesturing to the drink in front of him._Not interested in dancing, want to finish my drink_ was a polite turn-down, right?He’d have to ask Winry.Maybe.

Winry knew about these things, apparently.

One of these days he was going to have to ask her how she knew about this place.Maybe once he got over the mortification that _his best friend and his brother had told him about a gay dance club_.

He’s not sure he would ever be over that.

Ed sipped his drink and put it out of his mind, or at least stuff it down and put a lid back on it, and watched the gyrating bodies on the dance floor.He still wasn’t sure if the loud music and all the aggressive flirting was really his thing, but it was nice to be in a space where men _could_ openly flirt with each other.And—other things.Even if he didn’t feel much like participating, it was nice to be able to admire the male bodies writhing on the dance floor without fearing someone would take offense.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by someone sliding into the other side of his booth.Ed scowled, ready to let whoever this was know that he _wasn’t interested_ and if he would just—

Ed startled.Did a double take.Blinked.

Roy Mustang—Roy fucking Mustang—smirked at him from across the table.

“What the fuck’re—” Ed sputtered.“I mean, this is—you’re—it’s—”

Mustang’s smirk deepened and he leaned against the table, chin in hand.

“But this is—”On some level Ed knew he was digging himself a hole but his mouth had gone off ahead and his brain hadn’t caught up.“And you’re—it’s—that means—you—fuck.Fuck!”

He finally buried his face in his hand.“I don’t believe this.”

Mustang chuckled.“Why hello Ed, fancy meeting you here.”

Ed sorted through all the stupid things he could say and decided the least idiotic would be “Does you—being _here_—mean what I think it means?”

“Well, I don’t know.What is it you think it means?”

Ed glared past his hand.

Mustang laughed.“All right, all right—yes.It means exactly what you think it means.”

He slammed his hand to the table.“The flirting.The—the dates.The—_miniskirts_!”

“Heard about that, did you?”

“_Everyone_ heard about that!”

“Well—good.That was the idea.”Mustang sighed.“The simple truth is, you don’t get anywhere in the military if it’s known that . . . you lean outside the norm.I had to at least appear to be the model soldier.”

Ed grimaced down at his drink.

The military had no official policy, but even he had known how this worked on some level.He’d ended up stuffing his own desires down so far the two people closest to him had had to throw in his face before he could even admit to himself that he liked men.Spending time in that other world hadn’t helped matters—but over there he’d just shoved everything down, locked it up tight, and focused on getting home.

“I can’t say it wasn’t fun, in its way.That particular façade.But I’m more than happy to let it drop.Although,”Mustang started to smirk.“The ‘miniskirts’ bit was worth it just to get Havoc to hump my leg.”

Ed hadn’t even taken a drink.Didn’t matter; he choked on his spit.“Wh—shit, he sputtered.“The fuck—you’re _kidding_.”

“Ask Hawkeye if you don’t believe me.”

Ed was too busy sputtering and laughing to do more than shake his head.There was _no way_ he was going to go there.

Mustang took the opportunity to steal some of his drink.Ed snatched the mug back with a half-laughing “Get your own booze.”

“I should,” Mustang said with an exaggerated grimace.“That cider is pretty weak.”

“Well I’m not trying to get drunk and beer tastes like dog piss.”

“I hope the questionable alcohol isn’t the only thing you’re indulging in here.”

“What?”

Mustang’s smile softened.“I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been sitting on the edges all evening.It _is_ a dance club.”

Ed twisted the mug between his hands as his gaze traveled out to the dance floor.“I . . . I’m not much for dancing.”

“No?I’m surprised.You’ve always been so physical.”

Ed cleared his throat.He couldn’t decide if trying to hide a blush behind his mug would only call more attention to it and then realized he’d thought too long and the chance had passed anyway.“I just . . .” he said instead.“I just never have.Never had the chance to learn.”

Mustang was hard to read at the best of times—especially nowadays, with that patch—but it was exceptionally hard with Ed studiously looking everywhere but.

“Right then.”

Mustang stood and stepped around the table, and Ed blinked down at the hand that was suddenly being offered.

He looked up at the small—fond?—smile, and back down to the hand.He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, out of sync with the music.

Roy Mustang.

Had just asked him to dance.

He was sitting in a gay club in downtown Central and Roy Mustang had just asked him to dance.

Life had suddenly gotten very surreal.And not in the way Ed’s life usually got surreal.

Nothing else to do but accept the hand.“Don’t come complaining if I step on your toes.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

And just like that he was pulled onto the dance floor.

By Roy Mustang.

The other dancers made space, flowing around them like water in a stream.A particularly turbulent stream.Ed shot glances left and right, but then Mustang took his other hand and and just started—moving.

“The key is to not over think things.”Mustang had to lean in close to be heard.It was doing funny things to Ed’s stomach.“This isn’t about technique or skill.It’s about enjoying the music.And the company.”

“O-okay.Right.”

Ed tried to imitate what he’d been seeing.He felt like an idiot.

Mustang smiled at him, but it wasn’t the teasing or mocking smile he was expecting.But before he could process just what _that_ meant Mustang had taken his arm and pulled him in close so that Ed had no option but to move with him or stumble.

And.

They were moving.

Together.

Oh.

Ed had to laugh at himself.“Okay.Yeah.I get it.I think.”

Mustang grinned.“See?It’s not so complicated.”

And it wasn’t.It was not so different from fighting, really.Just reading and moving with your partner.

Ed even started trying to sync his movements to the beat of the music, the way everyone else seemed to.

“Don’t over think it,” Mustang reminded him.“Just have fun.”

That cued Ed’s stumble, planting his face right into Mustang’s chest.He laughed, and he was sure he was beat red, but now Mustang was laughing, and there was an arm around his waist and the room was suddenly spinning.“H-hey!” he laughed as he tried to find his feet.“No fair, bastard.”

“Who said anything about playing fair?”

“Oh yeah?”Ed jabbed a pressure point, just hard enough to make his leg start to collapse.Mustang grabbed his shoulder and Ed pulled him along, making the other man stumble after him for a change.

Mustang laughed as he steadied himself.Ed was starting to like that sound.“All right, you win!”

With a grin Ed settled back in to swaying with the music, unofficial truce acknowledged.

They were dancing . . . pretty close.Every time one of them moved a hip or a shoulder the other responded in kind.It was . . . a little intoxicating.

Mustang’s hand slid down his arm.His fingers teased the inside of his wrist, in the gap between his sleeve and glove.Ed’s breath caught and his eyes darted to his face and then away.Mustang’s smile had taken on a quality he couldn’t put a name to but was doing funny things to his insides.

Mustang lifted his hand, lacing their fingers together.Ed cautiously inched closer.They were almost pressed against each other now, he could feel the heat of his body, smell his cologne and a fresh layer of sweat.He wanted to draw back but at the same time wanted to touch, wanted to know what his throat felt like under his lips, the taste of his sweat.The thought of Mustang putting his lips on _him_ thrilled and terrified him and when had they gotten so close?Was Mustang leaning down?

Ed froze, caught between conflicting urges to lean up and back away.

Mustang paused.“Ed?Everything all right?”

“Uh. . . .”Ed stepped back.Maybe the cider had gone to his head.Maybe it was the music, the lights, the heat—he suddenly felt like he was suffocating.“I, uh. . . .”

Mustang’s fingers loosened and Ed slid his hand free.

“I . . .”He swallowed, eyes darting to his face and then away.“I should be getting home.”

He turned toward the door.He didn’t run.It took every ounce of control he had, but he didn’t run.Not until he was outside, and the cool night air hit his heated face.

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW I KNOW!! This decided to be longer than originally planned because these boys have Issues. I couldn't get the whole thing finished by the deadline so I had to leave it hanging.


End file.
